Mechmaker
by Obsessive Transformer Disorder
Summary: Every 'bot can practically see the sparks in their eyes. But when a month or so passes and nothing has happened, some femme decides that this needs to change and personally steps in to intervene.
1. I should ask

The one thing he hated most was being pressured.

That, and certain pink femme-bots who wouldn't get their olfactory sensors out of certain mechs business. Jazz groaned and slapped his servo to his forehead, rubbing it over his weary face.

"Come on Jazz, the whole base is sick of you ogling that black and white Datsun. How long has it been? Three orns? That's over one Earth month! Every sane 'bot aboard the _Ark _knows that this isn't how the Jazz-Meister rolls. I'll bet you that if it was anyone but 'Prowler', you would have already-"

Jazz took a deep breath in from his intakes and let it out in a hefty sigh, allowing Arcee to prattle on while he stared into his morning energon. He swished it around in its cube and watched it slosh against the sides, deep in his thoughts. He was quickly snapped back to reality, literally, when Arcee noticed the spaced out look in Jazz's visor and decided to snap her fingers in front of his face.

"Hello? Earth to Jazz? Pay attention!" She then smacked him upside the helm. Crossing her servos over her chest, she pouted and glared at Jazz. "As I was saying…I could help with getting you two together. You know, play the little mechmaker. You've hooked up plenty of 'bots! It's only fair one of us returns the favour. What do you say?"

"Look Arcee, and this ain't nothin' against ya, but I don't need no 'bot goin' 'n tryin' ta hook me up with Prowler. Prowlie. Prowl. Can ya just drop it already? I'm doin' perfectly fine pursing Prowler by m'self, a'ight?" He had bothered to look up from his energon to glare at Arcee by this point, who had a knowing look on her faceplates.

"Okay Jazz. I respect your wishes." An exasperated sigh vented from her intakes. Then, just like that, Arcee walked away from the sofa and out of the Rec room, much to Jazz's surprise.

"Huh. I expected more protestin'." With a swift shrug of his shoulders, he took a quick gulp from his energon and rested his head in a servo, pondering on how to go about courting Prowl. This was going to be one long orbital cycle.


	2. Fool-proof times 3

He had tried everything. Everything! ...Mostly everything! Everything that had come to mind, of course. Jazz was not one to shy away from a challenge and he always takes the hard way. Sometimes however, this leads to forgetting that there's an easier path. But more on that later.

Walking down one of the _Ark_'s halls to grab himself some energon, he reviewed the mental checklist he had made in his mind, One by one, he ticked off 'what I've done' and thought up 'what I could do next'.

*_Get 'im energon every morning, check. Flirt with him to no end, check. Attempt to make him jealous by lettin' him catch meh with another mech, check. Sing love songs around him, check. Trip 'n fall on top of him in a slightly suggestive pose, check. Why does he gotta be so damn oblivious?! I dunno what to try next! Maybe if I-*  
_  
His thoughts were cut short when he bashed his helm into a door, not even looking where he was going. Wincing, he rubbed his helm and stared at the door, a confused look plastered across his faceplates. For a moment, he stared at the door questioningly, almost as if he was asking himself why there was a door to begin with.

He muttered quietly under his breath, grumbling "Stupid…" although whether it was pointed at himself or the door is unknown. Hoping that no 'bot had seen that, he entered the Rec. room and headed for the energon dispenser, filling himself a cube. He would have gotten one for Prowl but he was preparing for a mission with him.

Wait, why was Prowl on a mission? He wasn't even a Special Operations mech. And why wasn't Jazz informed of this? He WAS the Head of Special OPs. And who organized the mission? Glad he had something else to focus on, even if it was a baffling matter, he pulled out a chair and sat in it, placing his cube on the table.

* * *

"Those two glitches have been dancing around each other for millennia. I'm sick of it. Pair of monkeys. So, I have taken the liberty of devising three elegant yet fool-proof plans to stick them together. Plan A is t-"

"Hang on a sec. What do we get out of this?"

Frowning at the two front liners, she rubbed the bridge of her nose in between her optics.

"Don't you want Prowl and Jazz to be together?"

"It IS a little pathetic how they've been acting lately."

"And sad."

"Mmhmm."  
"Exactly! So, will you help me help them?"

"Still, I don't know. Should we really be screwing around with relationships? What if we ruin their friendship? What if they hate us?" Sideswipe contemplated aloud. His face wore a look of deep thought and seriousness, a rare sight for any 'bot.

Sunstreaker, however, didn't really give it a second thought before shrugging. "Whatever, as long as I get to fix up their paint-jobs. Primus, I know we're at war but they could really take care of themselves a little better."

"Well Sunny, I guess we're in. What's the plan? Or plans?"

Arcee glanced at the red and yellow twins, clearing her throat and taking out three files. "Well, Plan A has already been deployed. I've managed to trick Prowl into thinking Jazz selected him for a three day mission. You two will be keeping a close optic on them, and give them a few 'nudges' on the way."

"Don't you think Jazz or Prowl would find it weird that they're on a mission together? Prowl is a tactician, not OPs, and Jazz is the Head of OPs, he would be the one doing these things."

"Ah –hah, I've already got it covered. I've informed Prime and he's agreed to play along. If they ask him about the mission he's going to explain that he chose them for whatever reason. The mission is tomorrow."

"Hmm. Okay. Well then," The vain mech started, "What other plans did you have in mind?"

"Plan B is that we prepare a party, invite everyone, including Prowl and Jazz obviously."

"Woah woah wait! You know how much of a stick-in-the-mud Prowl is. How are we meant to persuade him to come to a party and socialize of all things?"

"A group of us will drag him there."

"Right. Got it. And I guess me and Sunny here will be the Head Party Planners?"

"We'll whip up a batch of our special home-brewed high-grade. That should loosen Prowl's bolts."

"Perfect." The pink femme said with a grin. She had put quite a bit of thought into these. Her CPU processor was a whiz at mechmaking, or so she was told before the war. She even managed to get the first two plans Prime-approved. The third however…

"And if these two plans fail?" inquired the red Lamborghini.

"We will shove them into a closet together, lock it, and wait."

Fool-proof.


End file.
